Scarlet was her colour
by livinglittlelie
Summary: London is threatened by one of the most famous burglars, The Woman, who manages to steal every jewel she puts her eye onto. A card is the only warning. A rose is the only thing she leaves. As the families with most influence in the UK are feeling threatened, will Sherlock Holmes, the only consulting detective, discover who is behind this crimes? And will he be able to stop her?
1. The Woman

So here's a story I've been writing for a while... It's something that popped out in my mind and stayed for a while, so I had to write it down. Why am I publishing it now? Well, one of my friends (Marina) loves it, and even if she has just read the drafts I think she deserve to read the corrected version :)  
Anyway, It's an unusual adlock (as they don't... get laid in the first chapter, it's much more like a game of seduction with a background story). I don't really know where this series will take me, but I hope you like it!

**Ch 1. The Woman**

**The Times**

March 12, 2014

**_The Woman_****strikes again**

**Brighton-** The Nile's tear, one of the most valuable possessions of the Sabbington family, has been stolen this night by the now famous thief called The Woman.

The family received one warning card at the birthday party held by Mrs. Uma Sabbington and alerted the police afterwards. The jewel was rapidly transferred to a maximum security chamber and they installed additional security measures, but this morning the chamber has been found empty, with only a red rose standing at the same place the pin was the night before, a sign of her work.

This increase of robbery has alerted not only the people with influence, who have opted to increase the protection given to their valuable objects, but the authorities too, preoccupied about how the acts of this thief can affect the national security, had now developed a new department specialized in serial burglaries.

A lot of investigations and campaigns are being developed in order to arrest The Woman as soon as possible trying to avoid further accidents, but until now they haven't made any significant progress.

Mr. James Westminster climbed out of his limousine and stared at the building which was in front of him, checking if he was right. _221B Baker Street... that is the place. _He looked around disgusted by the filthiness of the street and put a handkerchief on his mouth and nose sleekly, seriously doubting why was he there, and hopeless wishing he had brought the antibacterial alcohol with him.

He had heard some rumors that the best detective of London lived there. There were a lot of rumors about the eccentric man that lived in the house that was in front of him, most of them affirming how extraordinary he was, but the only handicap was that he would only accept a case if he found it interesting enough. Well, he had one that undoubtedly deserved his attention.

He cleaned the crooked doorknob with his spare handkerchief, which was thrown to the bin afterwards, and waited for an answer. A woman in her middle forties opened the door smiling. He let his eyes rummage disgusted at the old-fashioned flower pattern dress and the pink apron around her waist, which had two tomato stains crying to be washed by the hip zone.

"Hello sir, may I help you?"

"Yes, I think you might. Does Sherlock Holmes live here, by instance?"

"Yes, he does." She shrugged her nose lightly after his cocky way of speaking, but made no comments "You're here for a case, aren't you? Come in, I'll make you a cup of tea while you wait."

He went inside and foundhimself sat on one of the most uncomfortable and ugly sofas he had ever seen, sipping a cup of tea, which had quite surprised him for its quality, and hearing the woman shouting upstairs. He couldn't understand most of the things, but he could overhear something like _put down this riding crop, young man_ or _how many times I have to say I am not your housekeeper _and shrugged.

He was starting to seriously doubt about the veracity of his source when the woman came downstairs.

"I'm sorry about the waiting, he didn't expect a client. You can go upstairs now."

He seriously considered leaving that mad place behind and forget everything he had had a glimpse of, but he knew that man was his last chance, so he climbed up the stairs and knocked the door. A deep voice came from inside.

"Come in."

The slowly opened the door and couldn't believe what he was seeing. A man in more or less his middle twenties was looking through an expensive-looking microscope installed at his living room and writing down some notes in a leather notebook.

"Are you Sherlock Holmes?" the lord asked condescendingly.

"I am."

"Then I must be mistaken. If you excuse me..."

He couldn't be that amazing detective everybody talked about in the business circles, the one that could solve the unsolvable, he was way too young to be this wise. He was about to leave, but his voice made him stop.

"When is your wife going to return?"

"Excuse me?"

"You have rest of lipstick on your right cheek. The color is too bright for a woman of the age and status of your wife, so I may say it's from someone younger. You also smell of woman perfume, so it tells me you have an adventure, and had had an intercourse not long ago, possibly before coming here. Your wife is very conservative, looking at your choose of clothes, so she spends lots of time at your house working, so one place discarded to bring your concubine, not with her there. You couldn't go to a hotel because she manages your accounts, so you brought your mistress to your house when your wife left. I hope that answers your question."

He stared at him in shock, unable to think through all he had just said. "Which question?" he muttered dumbstruck

"I'm the one you are looking for." he raised his eyes from the microscope "How can I help you?"

He sat down trying to control the anger that was beginning to build up inside him and took a red folder out of his handbag, placing it carefully on the table, trying not to throw accidentally… whatever that was on it.

"I'm sure you've heard about this thief, The Woman. I've brought a summary of articles which talk about some of her robberies." he gave them to him "The methodology is always the same: someone just receives a card saying which object is she planning to steal and when is she going to do it, and despite every efforts the victim takes, the day after they find a single scarlet rose where their treasure was."

"I've read some of this at the newspaper. Why are you interested in it?"

"Well, I found that yesterday." he took a little target with scarlet and gold borders. The card said:

'I am planning to steal the Midnight Jade next Saturday 22nd of March.

Sincerely yours,

The Woman'

"I need information about what she wants to steal."

"I made an assessment and some photos. All of it is inside this folder."

"And what do you want me to do?"

"Find her, of course." He answered confused

He got lost in thought for a minute before opening his mouth. "Okay... I'll take the case."

Sherlock didn't listen when that wealthy man said goodbye nor left the flat, immersed in his thoughts as he were, already planning different methods of treating the new case that had been put in his hands. He didn't even have to look for one, it had come to him, asking a privileged brain to solve him. He took his phone out of the pocket of his jacket and pressed the dial number, contacting with someone he didn't have much patience to treat with.

"Mycroft," He said as said brother got the call "I need all the information you have about The Woman."

"Good morning to you too, dear." He replied dryly "And may I ask why are yousuddenly interested in her?"

"I've got a case."

"You would have had it weeks ago if you hadn't stubbornly refused to help me."

"I get paid like this."

"You know we were going to pay you more than that client of yours."

"But I also have the reward of annoying you, and it's my motto of this week."

His brother sighed exasperated "It has been your motivation all your life."

"Are you going to give me that information or not?" he asked rudely

"With that behavior you will make mommy suffer."

"Mycroft." He snapped

He sighed "All our investigations lead to a woman called Irene Adler, age 23, which lives in Belgravia. The problem is that we don't have any proofsagainst her, that's why she hadn't been interrogated yet. I will make Anthea deliver you all our information. And I hope we receive an exhaustive report of your progress during the case."

"If you must." he hung up and looked at the card that, at some point of the conversation, he had caught and made it dance between his fingers besotted. He had the feeling his boredom was going to end soon.

Irene Adler took a drag of her cigarette. She was on top of a roof watching how the sun raised and the city of London woke up. Soon they were going to go mad when they knew The Woman had succeed again. She always did.

She looked down to see the pin. It consisted on a big sapphire in a drop form. Its color, blue intense as the sky at night, had captivated her since she had seen Uma wear it with pride at her birthday party. Not that she was going to miss that sight.

She smiled to herself after taking another drag. The robbery had always been exciting, deducing how she could fool the people around her, but somehow it had become more a routine than a game. Of course she still felt the adrenaline, but it wasn't the same as before.

Her incorporation at the privileged circle had made her job easier. Attending at different parties allowed her study her victim's surroundings and plan the act better. She often enjoyed being there, the rich businessman trying to hit on her while their spouses weren't looking and all the women busy showing off how rich they were and criticizing someone who hadn't been able to attend.

She despised them, only worried about their own bottoms. As a child, she grew up struggling to live in an orphanage, as poor as rats, when somebody was fighting boredom wasting tones of money in useless things.

She began to steal at the age of seven for necessity and discovered she was good at it, so it quite became a way of living.

She looked at her watch, remembering she had to meet with Robert before everything became hectic in the city. He was the one who bought her the jewelry she stole to sell them at the black market after that.

She knew she could trust him, but she wasn't stupid. She disguised herself so he (or nobody else) could recognize her when doing the transaction. You are never cautious enough, and she wouldn't risk her safety trusting someone that, being who he was, was not the trustiest person.

She stood up, finishing her cigarette, rubbing it with her ankle and jumped to the void, successfully landing on her balcony. She opened the doors and went inside her room, where she put on some leggings with leopard print and a white baggy dress. She took a blond wig and some make up, prepared to look like Amanda Syke, her pseudonym there.

She hated how she looked, but it was better looking bad for half an hour than wearing orange the rest of her life, so she ignored the itchy sensation of the mascara and left her second residence at Candem, going where she had met with Robbie, the sapphire pin hidden at the bottom of her bag.


	2. The Man

**Ch 2. The Man**

A ring on the door woke her up. She opened her eyes and looked outside the windows of her balcony, getting used to the daylight. It had passed three days since her last job, and had stayed up until late planning her next move. Her victim was now William Westminster, and he was as petulant as his name. His wife's necklace, a very well-polished green Jade pendant, had caught her attention a while ago. Moreover, Mr. Westminster affirmed that had been owned by a Chinese empress in the Ming era, which built up more her curiosity. Would it be true? Only Robbie would know.

Her assistant had opened the door, as diligent as always, and began talking to the stranger. She rubbed his face with her pillow, wishing that they didn't need her to show up downstairs, and almost groaned in annoyance when she heard a knock on her door.

"Madam, someone's waiting for you downstairs."

"Who is it?"

"A policeman. He said he wanted to ask you some questions."

She sighed and got up. She grabbed her night gown so she wouldn't be arrested for public scandal and put it on. It was indigo and semi-transparent, but it would do its work.

She went downstairs, and found her visitor waiting for her on her living room, looking through the window. He was tall and fit, and wore the uniform with an elegance not very common for an agent. His hat didn't cover all his dark curly hair that seemed as soft as silk, giving her an impulse of running her fingers in them.

He turned around and she almost lost her breath. With prominent cheekbones and surprising full lips, what stunned her was his eyes, which seemed to change from blue to green and vice versa.

"Are you Ms. Adler?" His baritone voice and the fact that he didn't show any signs of being affected for her clothes didn't stop to surprise her.

"I am, but please, call me Irene."

He ignored her remark "Good. Ms. Adler, I am here in order to obtain some information about the thief named The Woman. It is known that she has committed some robberies in this zone of London. Do you, by instance, know who she is?"

She stiffened but managed to control her actions, and gave the man a soft smile.

"Yes, I've read the newspapers. I'm sorry, though, as I won't be able to help you very much. I haven't suffered any threat of this kind, but I will tell you as much as I can. Would you like a coffee? I haven't had breakfast yet."

"Thank you for your consideration."

She nodded to her assistant, who was looking at her from the kitchen (and eavesdropping a bit, not that she minded) and sat down on the couch, with a hand showing him he could take a seat in front of her.

"Now, what would you like to ask me?"

"Do you know any of the victims of this robberies in series?"

She thought for a while "Yes, Lady Richmond and Mr. Harris. I don't know any other victims personally; maybe I have seen them at a party, or at official business, but nothing else."

"How did they react to the robbery?"

"Mr. Harris was very furious and almost smacked one of his security guards because they hadn't been able to stop the thief. On the other hand, lady Richmond bought a new necklace more expensive than the one stolen, and made sure to show it off at the garden party held by Mrs. Saeton."

He glanced her with his clear grey eyes, undisturbed "You seem amused."

"Really? Well, it is a bit amusing," she admitted with soft voice "although I don't wish anybody to experience it... knowing that you can't stop someone to steal something yours... it has to be hard, more if it's something you care about." She spoke with sentiment she didn't plan to show, and when she was aware of it tried to hide it behind a smug smile. Sometimes sentiment could be obtrusive.

"I'm sure it is."

Her assistant went inside with their coffee, a kettle with hot milk and a cup with sugar on a salver.

"Thank you, Kate. So," Irene began, preparing her own cup "is there more information about the case? I do love a good police story." She crossed her legs and took a sip of her cappuccino

"I'm not allowed to tell you anything. Black, two sugars." He added gesturing towards the cup of coffee

"Of course, but I am quite concerned about my safety."

He observed her closely, taking the cup she was lending "Are you?"

"Of course I am. As far as I'm concerned, I could be the next."

She could see a little smirk on his almost inexpressive face, a change she didn't expect. "Of course." He replied

That confirmed what she had been suspecting: this man wasn't who he said, a policeman. It was a façade. Her instinct, as always, had been correct.

So why was he at her house? Of course it was for The Woman, but if there were proves against her she would be already arrested. So why…

Finally, she realized what it was and her eyes glittered in amusement. They had nothing, and he was seeking for something that could exculpate her. But ooh, she was much cleverer to fall in this trap. She had already been in more difficult situations and risen victorious, fooling everyone if she needed it. Even if this man was eyeing her like he was analyzing every little gesture she made.

"Tell me, Mr..."

"Holmes."

"Mr. Holmes." she smiled "Since you can't tell me anything about the thief and I can't give you more information that the police doesn't know, maybe we could do some chit chat while you end your drink. So, how it's like to be a policeman?" she took a small sip, her eyes never leaving his

"Pretty dull. It only consist on arrest drunk teenagers and patrolling at night."

"Oh I see... Thanks goodness this neighborhood is a calm one, isn't it?"

"Believe me when I say that rich and spoiled teens are the worse ones."

"Oh yeah, I'm sure" she uncrossed her legs and sat on her feet "So once you become a DI in which area would you like to work?"

He smiled mischievously "Murder."

"You must find that case boring, then."

"Absolutely not. Everything challenging earns a place inside my mind to be analyzed."

"Fascinating."

He drank what was remaining on his cup and stood up. "Ms. Adler, I should leave in order to patrol all the street. I still have some other neighbors to question."

"Of course. Let me escort you to the door."

She stood up without caring about the state of her night gown and accompanied the tall man to the door. There, he opened the door and he went outside without looking back.

"Wait." She said at the doorway "May I ask your full name?"

"My name is Sherlock Holmes, miss." And with a nod and a little smile he left.

Some minutes after that mysterious man left, Kate approached her. "Are you alright, Ms. Adler? Should I make the luggage?"

"No, don't worry. He really wasn't a policeman, and something tells me he will wait."

"What for?"

"I really don't know, Kate, but I'm eager to discover it."

He turned left at the corner of the street and took off the hat. The talk with Adler had been interesting. Very interesting indeed. At some points of their reunion he had doubted about her culpability, and that only showed how clever she really was, masked under a façade of ignorance and semi-transparent clothes.

And he knew she had realized he wasn't a real policeman, he had seen that glint of realization, but instead of annoying him all the work he had had to do (he didn't want to remember what he had had to do to acquire the uniform) she had pleased him acting as she didn't know. The Woman was starting to become the most interesting case he had accepted, and he wasn't but anxious to observe how she would respond to different sceneries.

He walked away, already planning his next move.


	3. The dance

**Ch 3. The dance**

"Mr Holmes, did you call me?" Mr Westminster inside the flat, looking at his surroundings. He saw a jar with white spheres on the table next to the detective, and preferred to think they were just boiled eggs.

"Indeed. It was something related to the case. I have... _narrowed_ the list of suspects, but I need to see them in public, how they act. It is more likely to expect the thief to be there, as he would have the opportunity to analyze his plan from the inside of the house."

"And what do you suggest?"

"Do a party. You know, with old ladies chattering about their possessions, women trying to fit in the modern aristocracy by gossiping and presuming about things they actually don't own and old businessmen trying to seduce young girls, which I assume it's your normal behavior in this kind of reunions, so I apologize if I have offended you."

He glared at the detective and it passed unnoticed as he kept looking though his microscope "Okay. I think I could arrange something for Friday night."

"I suppose I am invited."

"I don't have option." He muttered "So if that is all you need me for, I shall go. I have a meeting with my publicist."

"Your wife hasn't returned yet?"

He breathed deep three times, trying to control his urge to smack the man he had hired to find the thief. As expected, every minute he spent in that mad flat it became even more difficult.

"_Yes_, so if you excuse me..." he said cutting before he left the flat of that crazy man.

Irene was reading the newspaper, still wearing her nightgown when Kate came inside her bedroom with her correspondence. She looked at the bills uninterested until one letter caught her attention. Mr. Westminster, her next victim, was holding a party that Friday, surely after the arrival of his wife.

There were a lot of rumors around him, most of them actually true. She was often amused by the image of how Mrs. Westminster wouldreact when she discovered her husband had a sexual intercourse with his secretary -which was pretty ordinary, she had to say.

She made the invitation roll between her fingers. It was risky to go to the house when she had planned the robbery to be held only weeks after, but as dauntless as she was, she couldn't resist the temptation. Later, looking for a reasonable argument, she convinced herself that going to his manor could improve her plan, as she would be able to check if every data she had was still right.

So she called her assistant and made an appointment with the tailor.

The Westminster manor was lighten up, and made the dark night sky around it clearer. Dozens of limousines and expensive cars were gathering around the house's front door, and people wearing smart clothes walked inside as if they were in a movie premiere and millions of flashlights were surrounding them.

She arrived on her Porsche, carefully trying not to step on the skirt of her dress. She was wearing a black sleeveless dress which had embroiled a line of white little stars from the left of her hip to the end of the skirt, and some of them on the neckline. Her hair was put up in a loose bun, and she was only wearing a simple golden necklace and a bracelet.

"Oh dear you look amazing!" Ms. Smith almost made her trip because of the tight hug she gave her just after closing her car's door.

"Ms. Smith, you look as radiant as always. Shall we go inside?"

"Of course. Is the pendant obsidian?"

"Yes, it's Indian. My brother gave it to me when he returned from a business trip."

She giggled "Oh your mysterious brother, he has seen the world with his bare eyes. I hope you could introduce him to us when he returns next time."

"I'm sure he would be glad to meet you. I hope I can hold a party next time as marvelous as the ones you organize, dear."

She giggled more and began babbling about her daughter who was studying at Harvard. Irene didn't actually have a brother, of course not, but it was a comfortable explanation why she had managed to make such a fortune in a short period of time. Having a brother who had different successful business around the world meant she didn't have to act like she worked in things she wasn't at all interested in. It was a simple alibi.

Some minutes later, when the two women were at the ball room, they met Mrs. and Ms. Sabbington. The old woman was wearing again her new acquisition while her daughter was looking at the crowd, nodding absently when she was asked about something, a glass of wine in her hand.

She found herself looking at the guests too, analyzing them. There were the usual faces talking about their usual business drinking their usual cocktails. They were people who assisted to all the meetings, and Irene felt confident when she bet she could guess how they would act next.

There also were people she didn't know, but the ladies with her made sure she knew every single tiny detail of their lives with the normal gossiping they were used to.

"Did you know?" Mrs. Sabbington continued "There is a special guest that no one knows about, only Mr. Westminster knows him."

"They also say he's like super handsome. I hope he arrives soon."

Mrs. Westminster came from another group of people, greeting the guests.

"What can you tell us about that mysterious guest of yours?" Mrs. Smith asked directly

"My, my, is there anything I can keep away from your gossip nose?" She laughed "The truth is that I don't know him either. It seems he's a business acquaintance of my Lawrence." She approached "Well, what I can tell you is that I've had a glimpse of him. And he is bloody gorgeous."

She left them rattling about that mysterious man when she saw Mr. Westminster walking inside the ball room talking with a tall man with very familiar dark curls.

"Look, here he is my husband. Let's meet the stranger."

The group of women walked towards the pair giggling like teenagers. They raised their gaze and Irene met with a pair of annoyingly beautiful blue eyes which proceed to observe her.

"Good night ladies, I hope you are enjoying the party. Let me introduce you. Mr. Holmes, they are Mrs. Sabbington and her daughter, Mrs. Smith and Ms. Adler."

He shook his hand with everybody.

"Your face seems familiar." Irene said "Have we met before?"

"Maybe in business." Sherlock replied

"It must be."

"Well, if you excuse me, I have a party to hold." Mr. Westminster said before leaving

"Ms. Sabbington, I heard about the robbery, how are you feeling?" Mr. Holmes asked politely

"Oh dear, it was an awful experience! The thief treated us like we were stupid and stole my precious broch in our noses. If Graham hadn't bought me this necklace I would be devastated, really."

Irene rolled her eyes subtly and Sherlock curved his lips up, muttering one "I'm sure it was." before drinking from his cocktail.

"So Mrs. Westminster has told us you are a business acquaintance of her husband, aren't you?"

"You could name it like that. I began my relationship with him not long enough as he had employed me to solve some problems he had."

"And what did they consist of?" Ms. Adler asked

"I'm sorry, but only Mr. Westminster could answer that. The situation I managed is confidential."

"How mysterious, Mr. Holmes." Mrs. Smith touched his arm, and Irene saw him stiffen subtly at the contact.

The music began to play, a calm waltz echoing the walls of the room. Some pairs began dancing at the rhythm of the music. Sherlock handed his hand to Irene and bowed slightly.

"Would you like to dance?"

She heard muttered gasps from her acquaintances. She raised an eyebrow surprised, but quickly replaced it with a sweet smile. "Yes, I would be pleased."

He took her hand and guided her to the dance floor. He put a hand gently on her hip, the other one still holding hers and began guiding her with gracility at the rhythm of the music. His steps were sure and his hands firm as he guided them through the dance floor with gracility, her dark long skirt swaying at the rhythm of the music.

"I didn't know you could dance like that, I must say I'm impressed."

He shrugged slightly "I like to dance."

"So... what is your real job, officer?"

"Sherlock Holmes, consulting detective, the only one in the world, at your service." He winked

"What is exactly a consulting detective?"

"When the police is clueless about a case they call me and I solve it. I also accept cases from the people that comes to my flat looking for help, but only if they are interesting."

"You should keep that police uniform, though. It makes you look great."

He looked at her with a bow raised, made her spin and continued dancing without making any commentaries about it.

"How are you going to do it?" he suddenly asked

"Excuse me?"

"The robbery."

She laughed "Oh, Mr. Holmes, where is the fun in telling you how will I do it?" he made her spin again, and some seconds later she smiled wickedly at him, a fantastic idea popping inside her mind "I will propose you a game."

"And in what consist this game of yours?"

"I want to rob the necklace. You want to catch me doing it. So if you figure out how I am going to do it before I actually leave this place with the jewel, I'll let you arrest me."

He stared at her dumbfounded "And what will you win if I don't discover it?"

"The knowledge that I've been able to fool the most amazing detective of the world. That is worth the try. "

They continued dancing, Irene sometimes seeing her friends looking at her with grins on her faces and jealousy on their eyes.

"I could have been recording our conversation so I have proofs against you."

"I know you haven't. You want to demonstrate you only need your intelligence to stop me. Recording illegally a conversation where I confess I am a thief it doesn't stick to your modus operandi."

"You seem to know me better than a lot of people, Ms. Adler."

"Just as you do, Mr. Holmes."

The song ended and the couples stopped dancing and clapped, congratulating the musicians that had played the waltz. He stared at her intently, still not letting her go.

"Deal." He muttered

"I really hope you find out." She smiled "I've got high expectations of you." she let go and walked away where her 'friends' were waiting for her to return.

"Oh my god Irene! You made such a beautiful couple."

"Really?" She laughed

"Yeah! Some times I saw you two talking about something, too. What did he say? Is he interested in you?"

"We had a really interesting conversation, Mr. Holmes and I." She waved her hand and ignored the multiple questions her companions were addressing her "Where is my cup?"

"Over here. Oh honey, how he looked at you… I wish my Lawrence could look at me like this too… But, what do you think about him?"

She met his eyes, who were looking at them, more specifically at her, and she made a crooked smile "Well, brainy is the new sexy, isn't it?" She took a sip of her drink and smiled secretly, letting the women babble about the detective at the other side of the room.

Sherlock was on a corner of the room. The increasing interest of the feminine beings of that party had begun to be annoying as they interrupted his thoughts for stupid proposals, some of them nearly indecent.

He remembered his suspect, Irene Adler. She was clever, very clever indeed. She had found out on her own not only that he wasn't a policeman, but he was investigating her as well; and after knowing that she hadn't tried to escape but she wanted to test his intelligence. That made her be one of the most interesting cases he had had until then.

"How are you doing?" Mr. Westminster approached and asked. He wondered how it felt to need someone you disliked as much as the man in front of him felt about him, cataloguing that thought for later analysis.

"The investigation has expanded. For tomorrow I need all this manor maps. Location of security systems, air ducts, your employees CV and schedules. Everything that could be useful information of this building."

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"Don't hire more security. It will be a loose of money and a waste of our time."

He smirked after Mr. Westminster left. He looked at her, who was barely listening the women around them, more entertained with the cherry of her drink.

Deciding he had seen everything he needed, he grabbed his Belstaff and walked away that noisy party, putting its collar up and fading with the dark night.


	4. The investigation

**Hello everyone and thank you for reading this series! I have to announce that I'm going to a vacation next week and I won't have internet for a month, so I won't be able to post any chapters until the end of august (Imsosorrybelieveme).**

**I really hope to see all of you -my dear readers- then. Enjoy the story! :)**

**Ch 4. The investigation**

Hesatonhiscouch, his chinresting on his hands, while he looked at the map of the Manor. He had traced some escaping routes, but any of them finished to convince him. In one of them it was the position of the camera, in the other one was the waste of precious time climbing a wall. All of them had one minor flaw that didn't make them perfect. And they had to be.

He had seen many informs of the cases where The Woman was involved and the camera recordings of them, but in any of them you could see a mistake. It was just like the jewel had evaporated on his own. There wasn't a hint of her in the recording, no signs of being modified, and the place was free of proofs that could exculpate her, no fingerprints, no DNA samples, nothing; just the card and the flower she always left where the jewel had been.

The scarlet flower, of the _Corymbulosa_ species, wasn't bought, so he couldn't follow his precedence, it was cultivated in a garden. Not Irene's, she hadn't got roses on hers.

Every possible clue was a dead-end, but that surprisingly didn't bother him, he liked it better. The thrill of deducing a mind that stood up from the rest always excited him.

So he looked at the map once more, discarding the routes done and looked for another one that satisfied his exigencies.

A knock of the door distracted him but he didn't bother to stand up. Mycroft, his _dear _brother opened the door, tired of standing at the entrance of his flat waiting for him. He made his way inside the flat ignoring Sherlock's glare.

"It's such an honour you paid me a visit." Sherlock saluted sarcastically

"Oh Sherlock, as endearing as always." He sat down the armchair.

"Oh, please, seat down. And pardon my manners, I haven't asked if you want a cup of tea."

"It would be lovely of your part."

"The kitchen is beside you." He finished with the hypocrisy and returned his gaze to the papers before him.

He heard some noise at the kitchen. _Mycroft hasn__'__t stood up, so it has to be someone doing it for him. That person knows where everything is at the kitchen and his master__'__s preferences; Anthea is it, then. Although sometimes she would have to use her real name, Andrea. It__'__s annoying when she changes it, too much mental storage space wasted in this issue._

"Why are you here?"

"Aren't you going to ask me "how are you" or show some courtesy before a guest first?"

"No."

He stiffened a groan "Okay. The subject that has brought me here is your implication in Ms. Adler's case."

"What about her?"

"You seem to have gotten closer to her."

"Are you really serious? Now what, only if I show some interest in a case, and in that case it's involved a woman you assume I have _feelings _for her? Let me tell you, Mycroft, it really is one of your poorest deductions until today, when you should already know that I don't do feelings or other mundane experiences that could interfere with my work." He snapped

"I'm not saying that. I just confirm a fact. You two seemed rather good… acquaintances at the last party; I'm here to remind you that she is indeed a criminal, Sherlock. Caring will numb your judge, caring is never an advantage."

"Nonsense. It's just a case, Mycroft. I don't know what you have imagined, but the only thing I feel for her is curiosity. I'm a high-functioning sociopath, and I keep wondering if you forget that."

"I'm here to warn you." He continued, ignoring the enraged speech of his sibling "When we have enough proofs against her she will be arrested." And with that he stood up and went outside. Anthea followed him and closed the door behind her, the tea just made forgotten on the kitchen table.

Finally, the detective had some calm and could resume his study of the papers Mr. Westminster had provided him. He looked at the security guards list and he wasn't impressed to note he had employed five more people, even if he told him not to do it.

He sighed and looked at their profiles. Everyone seemed clean. They were going to enforce the vigilance in different parts of the house, but any of them would be near the jewel, so he classified this information in the manor information's folder.

Looking through the maps of the house once again, and noticed there was a window in the second floor that he hadn't observed yet. It didn't have much security, just the normal lock, and if you followed a special route, measuring how fast you walked to the different sections of the house, it could be plausible the robbery without anyone noticing it, no record print either.

He smirked. _I__'__ve got you, Irene Adler._

He traced mentally the route in red, specifying how much time it's needed to accomplish the primal objective and then prepared his tactic.

Irene checked if she had every detail of the plan okay. This wasn't a normal job, it was the one against one of the most intelligent minds of London, if not the world, and she wanted it to be flawless. She smiled looking at the contents of her old bag, the one she had purchased with the earnings of her first theft.

The night of the robbery approached and she couldn't avoid feeling excited about it. There was something on that detective that made he want to tease him until madness, his lack of human expressions or maybe the high confidence he showed when he acted. What would he do then? Would he had guessed her plan yet? Ah, the expectations.

It was true that in that game of them there was a high threat to make her wear orange for some years, but where was the fun if she didn't take a little risk? The adrenaline pumping through her veins, the thrill of the chase… that was what made her life bearable.

Kate, her assistant, approached and laid down the table a cup of tea. She looked what was inside the bag she was preparing and raised an eyebrow.

"Miss Adler, aren't you wearing the usual?"

"I wanted to experiment a bit, find other possible ways of doing it. Moreover, a friend gave me inspiration."

"I haven't seen you that excited since a long time, Irene." She said, leaving the formalities aside

"What do you mean?"

"It's just that it doesn't seem like you are doing it by obligation anymore. You have found your spark again."

She buffed trying to hide her amusement "Kate, how many times I have to tell you that you've read too many Nora Roberts books? You're becoming a sentimental." She chuckled

"I only tell you what I see. That's why you trust me, isn't it?"

"Of course. But I still don't know why _you _trust me." She added, feeling suddenly as she had to reassure it to her dearest friend

"We've been friends for a long time, precious, and you also gave me one of the best jobs I could ask. Why should I complain?"

"I don't know." She made two steps towards her and rested her head on her shoulder, she began stroking her hair lightly "But that doesn't mean I don't feel bloody lucky to have you."

"Now who is the sentimental?" both of them laughed

Some time after, Irene sat down and began drinking her tea, her bag then prepared. Kate sat beside her and caught the second cup of tea

"So, are you going to tell me your new plan?"

She hummed "Maybe tonight, when we have dinner. I really feel like having a very long bath."

"You want flower petals in it?"

"Oh god yes. Are there any roses left?"

"Yes, but we'll have to pick up more for the robbery. They are withering."

She hummed and looked through the window, crossing her legs "Sure, I'll stop by tomorrow. I have some business with Robbie too, is the wig decent?"

"Not because you take care of it! I had to dig in dirty clothes to find it."

She laughed and took another sip of her tea. Days like that were her favourite ones.

"What do you have to talk with Robert?"

"I just have to tell him I'll visit him with another piece soon so he makes sure he's around our meeting spot this days."

"But he stays at his shop most of the days, doesn't he?"

"Yes, but it seems he has a new… _client _and he's making a fortune with him too. It seems like he has to move to make business with him, so he has asked me to tell him when I'm going to come back with material."

"So he can be ready and be there when you come."

"Yes, and also to have more material to show to his new client. It seems he doesn't care where the jewels are from."

Kate wrinkled her nose "Irene, promise me you will take care with this. I don't want to see you in jail, okay?"

"Don't worry, hon. Everything's under control."

She didn't tell her the bet she had with Sherlock Holmes. It was something not worth the concern it may cause to her friend, so she preferred to have her mouth shut about that issue. She knew Kate was suspicious, but wasn't sure why, so she only had to make sure it stayed this way.

Because she didn't want the most precious thing in her life to worry uselessly.


	5. The robbery

***mushu voice* I'M AALIIIVEEEEE! Yeah, I know, it has been long, but I've been absolutely isolated in my holidays and I haven't been able to update until now. I hope this chapter makes it up for all of you. I hope you like it!**

ps: if someone wants to contact me (?) I have a tumblr account: .com

**Enjoy!**

**Ch 5. The robbery**

He stood up for third time, unable to stay still. He had spent so many time studying every bit of his theory and it was the only plausible one, yet he was still feeling a bit… anxious? He didn't like what he was feeling, well, he didn't like to feel anything at all.

He had readjusted the cameras secretly so they could show him when she made her entrance and then follow her path until she fell inside the trap he had prepared only for her, then he would capture her.

It was _so _easy, maybe a bit too much, but he was beginning to feel the excitement of solving a good case. Oh, he had enjoyed so much analysing her, going inside her head and learn how she thought so he was a bit disappointed it all ended this night. She had been quite a challenge, and he appreciated this hugely.

He saw in the monitor Mr. Westminster barking at his surveillance, asking them to be extremely competent that night. Sherlock huffed and sat down again, tired of being in a closed room that long. He liked to run behind criminals, feeling his heartbeat, pumps of adrenaline through his veins, the thrill of a chase; but instead he had to stay in that dark room. It was so Mycroft-like it disgusted him. Maybe he had to start eating pie.

The hour of the robbery had arrived and Sherlock was almost breaking the walls with his fists. _Nothing _had happened until then and he was seriously thinking she had retreated and flown away, but it wasn't her style. The more difficult, the best.

So he started scanning all the TV screens for every possible bit that could have escaped from his sight, every single detail that was different from the mental picture he had from the images in front of him. Then he saw it. It was something he would have noted if he hadn't been so obsessed to see her. Someone who wasn't on his position.

Instead of seeing the face of the man that was supposed to be in that position, the security camera, the recording could only capture the hat the security member was wearing, which meant that whoever was the one in there, he wasn't the guard assigned to take care of the necklace.

He stood up abruptly and grabbed his coat when he saw the guard turning around and, with the face mid-hidden with the hat, smirked at the camera with scarlet lips, before heading to the jewel.

He ran as much as he could, his scarf waving behind him, to the most likely location to cross his route with her escaping plan. _He had to find her_, he thought urgently. He couldn't lose.

"Adler!"

She turned around and saw Sherlock behind her, gasping for air. They were on an open balcony at the first floor of the house. She was seating on the edge, carrying a little bag, and she was still wearing the security guard uniform.

"I see you were eager to see me." She smirked "Do you like my new outfit? You gave me the idea, dear."

"Stop playing around. I've found you, give me the jewel."

"That wasn't our agreement, Mr. Holmes. You didn't stop me from robbing the necklace, so you have to let me go. You will make me think you play dirty." She pouted

He stared at her and shivered slightly. He had lost. There was one possibility he didn't contemplate, just because it wasn't her normal modus operandi, and that was the one she had took. He should have known that she would do something new to surprise him, she would have gone away from her normal behaviour, just like himself, to win. Well, then it was demonstrated who had been the cleverest of them both this time.

She smirked again and took off her uniform's hat. "I'm glad you accept your loss."

"Next time it will be different." He snapped angry

"Oh, I'm sure. But it will be even funnier, I tell you that." She turned around, her legs then on the void, but didn't walk away, instead she turned her head and looked at him "Let's have dinner tomorrow."

He grimaced "What?"

"You heard me."

He looked at her with a poker face. "I prefer if the terms of or relationship stay in the actual arrangement, if possible. I have no interest in developing any kind of attachment towards anyone, even more if we are talking about a thief."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Shame. You are an interesting man, Sherlock Holmes. Until the life take us together again." And that said, she left jumping off the balcony to the back garden, avoiding the guards that were now rushing to the security room. He looked how she undid her bun and took off the uniform, only wearing a black skinny outfit under it.

"Sir!" someone called behind him.

The alarms had went off when she stole the necklace, so the police had already arrived, and the police officer in front of him -a rookie, he noted- was there to interrogate him

"Is DI Lestrade here?" he asked

"Yes, sir."

"Bring me with him."

"But…"  
"I'm an acquaintance of him. Take me with him and you'll see." He restrained his urge of snapping and waited with the little patience he had left for the rookie to bring him where Lestrade was.

DI Lestrade was examining the security room while he cursed mentally, wondering why he was investigating a bloody burglary instead of a murder. Only his own job already woke him at inhuman hours, then add the paperwork, and now he had to take care of that case too. _It__'__s a favour I ask you, Greg. Do it for the sake of Scotland Yard, Greg. We have to recover our reputation, Greg._ He fumed.

He was taking some notes in his leather notebook, sipping his already cold coffee when one of the recent incorporations to his team came with no one else than Sherlock Holmes behind him. The poor rookie was sweating heavily, and tried not to look him at the eye. _God knows what he has told him._

"Lestrade." It was his only greeting

"Sherlock. I didn't expect you here."

"Hired by Mr. Westminster. What about you? Your specialisation is murders."

"Doing a favour to the chief."

He walked around and crossed his arms, caressing lightly his right elbow while thinking. He looked at the police officers working at their left.

"What have you got until now?"

"More or less the same as always, the rose, the note, the escaping… But this time the cameras captured some images of her committing the robbery. She has made a mistake today."

He turned his head and looked at him "No she hasn't. She was showing off, and made sure that she couldn't be recognised by the camera."

"And what does explain her change of behaviour?"

"My presence here. It makes her prove her abilities. Any fingerprints?"

"None. How does she know you were here?"

"I don't know, I'm not a bloody fortune-teller. Then if you must, we have to examine the security camera tape."

They went to the computer room, where two policemen were watching the recording. When they saw the inspector, they exchanged some words about it and replayed it, letting him and the detective watch it again.

"She shifts the position with the previous guard ten minutes before stealing the jewel. She makes sure her face is hidden during the act and after that. She knows _exactly _where is the camera and in which angle, even when I moved them some hours before. That is a demonstration of her skills."

"You seem to admire her." Lestrade remarked

"I admire her good work here, but don't misjudge me, Inspector. I'll do everything needed to catch her next time. And I hope you text me when you have new information about her."

"Of course."

Meanwhile, Mr. Westminster went inside the little and dark room, enraged.

"Mr. Holmes, this is unacceptable! I hired you for some reason, and you have proven you are as incompetent as all of them!"

"Maybe if someone hadn't hired more security this wouldn't have happened." He snapped back "You will be able to find the jewel at the Black Market, cheaper than it cost you before, and if you excuse me, my work here is done. Lestrade text me if there are some news." And with that he left the room, the neck of his Belfast up and his cyan scarf waving at the rhythm of his steps.

Irene was enjoying her bubble bath more than ever. She had had a great time being chased by that arrogant detective, and was planning to have even more. She took her mobile phone, which was resting on the table nearby, and wrote a text.

_Let__'__s have dinner. __–__IA_

She chuckled slightly. Who was the moron that put his private mobile phone at a web page? _The same moron that describes 240 different kind of ash, _she argued with herself. But who was Sherlock Holmes, if not a really strange yet interesting person?

Then she began planning her next robbery, ecstatic to see that face again, the one he put when he found her at the balcony.

_There are so many different ways to make him put that face, surprised and eager to find out more, but I__'__m sure he won__'__t like most of them__… __yet._ She laughed and took a sip of her wine. She had seen some beautiful jewels at the last party, but anything that deserved her attention. Moreover, she still had to take care of the one she had stolen tonight. Would she be able to keep it as a token of the victory? No, probably not. She had a major cause, she couldn't let herself be taunted by the money and the luxury.

Oh, but it wasn't about luxury, it was about winning a really tough battle against the most difficult opponent she had had.

Taking another sip of her red wine, its scarlet colour dancing with the candle lights, she opened the book she was reading then, _Pride and Prejudice, _and got immersed in the adventures of Elisabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy, letting her body get relaxed with the heat of the water surrounding her.


End file.
